Left alone in her room, Ophelia let out a bitter smile.

Her hands grabbed her top and pulled, the fabric riding up over her huge pale tits.

The garment caught just past her pink nipples, the white cotton biting into her soft skin, clearly unable to contain such volume.

A slight sway of her torso was enough to set her breasts trembling within the tight fabric, the heavy globes quivering for a long moment before settling slowly into place.

A sigh escaped her lips.

She walked toward the bed and let herself fall onto her back.

Her voluptuous body bounced against the soft mattress, her enormous tits quaking from the impact before finally settling against her chest.

The fine silk of the bedding molded itself to her delicate back and the protruding curve of her hips.

Her fingers untied her black hair, the dark strands spilling loose before her head sank into the cool softness of a pillow.

Dark eyes swept across the room as she tried to suppress the flush that insisted on coloring her cheeks.

It had been less than an hour since she’d arrived in Goldenveil, and her pussy had already been pounded raw, leaving her in this state...

What the hell had happened to her? She, the powerful spy queen?

"Ah... I really should have retired already," she murmured, cupping the breasts that rose like huge pale mountains from her delicate torso.

The pressure of her hands forced the creamy peaks—exposed by her ample cleavage—to bulge even higher, the soft flesh spilling between her squeezing fingers.

As her gaze drifted down to her own obscene cleavage, along with the deep grooves carved by the fabric sinking into her voluptuous flesh, her cheeks burned an even deeper red.

She rose from the bed, and her shadow magic stirred.

Her clothes melted into a black liquid that flowed down the voluptuous curves of her body before vanishing beneath her feet.

Now naked, she walked toward the bathroom and peered inside.

It was, without a doubt, infinitely superior to the one in her son’s mansion.

Shaking her head, she simply turned one of the faucets.

The water, already heated, gushed out in a steady stream, steam curling into the air as it quickly filled the large white marble bathtub.

Her eyes sparkled at the sight.

Running water and a heating system for cold days were things she had sorely missed since coming to live in this world.

Soon, she let her body sink into the hot water, the warmth enveloping every inch of her skin. Her heavy breasts floated lazily on the surface, the pink tips peeking just above the water.

She washed herself carefully, perfumed her skin with a sweet scent, then stepped out of the tub, water streaming down the curves of her body in glistening rivulets that traced every dip and swell.

A fresh set of clothes quickly wrapped her silent figure.

With the pale skin of her large breasts still glistening with moisture and the black pantyhose once again hugging her luscious thighs, she walked to the window.

The world was dark outside.

A terrible blizzard raged relentlessly, and every house and establishment in Goldenveil remained carefully sealed against the biting cold.

Even a second-stage warrior would die within minutes out there if they didn’t properly protect themselves with their aura.

Only Doran and Aerick, both third-stage, patrolled the walls alongside twenty other guards, all veterans accustomed to that kind of relentless winter.

Knowing this, Ophelia turned away. She tied her hair into a ponytail and tucked her metal pen into it.

Soon after, she pulled the bottle of wine from the green fairy she had brought with her and carefully took a sip.

It was the best thing she had ever tasted in her entire life; she couldn’t deny that.

With a satisfied smile, she turned her gaze back to the glass window, feeling the blizzard, the powerful density of mana in that place, and the steady beat of her own heart.

Would she regret it?

Honestly, she didn’t know.

She brought a hand to her chest, closed her eyes, and in the next moment took a step forward.

Her body vanished into the shadows. When she reappeared, she was already standing in front of the mansion.

The snow was deep, but her feet barely left any tracks behind.

The ceaseless falling snow erased her nearly nonexistent trail almost instantly, while a faint barrier of mana protected her body from the deadly cold.

After walking for a few moments, she reached the front of the Blue Sea Tavern and stepped inside.

Apart from a handful of adventurers drinking beer to warm their blood and prepare for the next missions—which would begin as soon as the snow stopped falling—the place was nearly empty.

Only one employee remained on duty behind the counter.

Ophelia ignored the stares thrown her way, climbing the wooden staircase that creaked beneath her footsteps until she reached the third floor and entered one of the private rooms.

Inside, gathered together, sat the now five operatives her son had placed in Goldenveil, all serving as adventurers and sending weekly reports to Whitefall.

The moment Ophelia stepped through the door, everyone shot to their feet and bowed in respect.

"Lady Ophelia." The most senior of the five, a woman in her thirties, stepped forward.

"Where is the communication device my son gave you?" Ophelia asked coldly.

It had already been part of her son’s original plan that she, having infiltrated Goldenveil Manor directly, would keep this device.

"Oh... it’s here, My Lady!" The woman turned, rummaging through her pocket until she pulled an item from within; a steel orb, no different from a piece of ordinary metal.

"What are your next orders, my lady? Should we continue sending weekly reports?" Another spy stood up, a bald man with steely eyes.

"It won’t be necessary," Ophelia replied, examining the item before tucking it into her own robes.

The next moment, she pulled the silver pen from her hair. A black strand fell loose, draping over one of her eyes.

She ignored it, raised the pen to her lips, and blew softly.

"M-miss? What are you—"

The spy didn’t have time to finish her sentence.

The pen shot forward at blistering speed, piercing her skull in an explosion of blood that painted the wall behind her bright red.

The eyes of the other four widened, but before they could even scream, the silver pen, wreathed in shadow mana, had already torn through their skulls, one after another.

Their lifeless bodies collapsed against chairs and the wooden floor with dull, heavy thuds.

Ignoring the corpses and the thickening stench of blood, Ophelia simply let the pen return to her delicate hands, a hint of embarrassment in her gaze.

She had just betrayed her own son, but she felt nothing. Absolutely nothing.

What kind of hellish ability had Ethan used on her?